


Dawning

by TheAmaretto



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAmaretto/pseuds/TheAmaretto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaworu had developed something of a ritual, every morning before the sun rose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawning

Kaworu had developed something of a ritual, every morning before the sun rose.

Even before opening his eyes, as he felt the first faint touches of awareness brush across his mind, he reached a hand across the small expanse of bed in search of another; a smaller one, one that still trembled when he clasped it close but didn’t dare pull away, and didn’t dare let go.

It was when he’d successfully found that hand and twined their fingers gently together that he finally blinked himself awake. The room was dark, with shadowy shapes that seemed to ripple in his peripheral vision (he knew them to be the bedside table, the lamp, two schoolbags stacked precariously in the corner)—but they were wholly and totally insignificant compared to the sight before him, breathing softly, with waning moonlight shining in his hair.

Kaworu loved to look at Shinji just before the sun rose.

There was more reason to it than simply the aesthetics. Of course, there was nothing  _wrong_ with the aesthetics: Shinji was beautiful, Shinji was perfect, regardless of how the boy thought himself to be. His face was relaxed as he slept—there were no furrowing eyebrows, no tightly drawn lips, no unshed tears wetting the corners of his eyes. It was the calmest he’d ever see him, and he felt incredibly blessed to bear witness to it every single day. Sometimes, Shinji would even smile. Kaworu liked to think that he was the cause of it.

So yes, the view was a plus. He could never look at Shinji enough, could never worship him with his eyes and his hands and his words enough to feel completely satisfied. But there was a reason besides that, more than the physical aspect of it.

Kaworu watched Shinji just before the sun rose as a reminder.

The hand enveloped by his suddenly twitched, making him jump. Those fingers flexed, curling one by one, before shifting altogether to fit their hands closer, palm to palm. He froze, unable to move a muscle as Shinji Ikari gave a little sigh, slowly opened his eyes. And as soon as his still-sleepy, unfocused gaze found Kaworu, he broke into the gentlest, most heartbreakingly radiant smile, and Kaworu read his name on his lips.

 _There it is_.

"Good morning, Kaworu-kun." Shinji yawned, scrubbing his free hand across his eyes. "Did you sleep well? What time is it?"

"I did. It’s still early." Kaworu moved across the mattress, and Shinji moved as well; they met in the middle, melding to each other upon first contact, limbs upon limbs and heartbeats side by side. Shinji tucked his face into the curve of Kaworu’s neck. “‘Still early’ is too early. Wake me up later?"

"Of course."

Shinji settled back into sleep. The smile was still there.

 _Don’t ever forget this_.

Kaworu kissed the top of Shinji’s head, wrapping an arm tightly around him. He felt his own eyelids droop, and he raised his head, the smallest bit, to see the sun peek over the horizon; then he let it fall, and his eyes slid closed, and sleep overtook him, too.

Kaworu had developed something of a ritual, every morning before the sun rose. It was so he would always remember how Shinji looked when he was truly happy, how Shinji Ikari lived and loved unburdened by angels and NERV and piloting Eva. It was something he could lock away in his heart, something he knew he wouldn’t lose when a loop went wrong, something he could think back on and treasure during the horribly long and lonely nights. If his calculations were correct, this loop would end in two weeks; there would be no more hand-holding, no more loving sunrises; he would soon be back at square one. He already knew this particular loop was pointless. But—and  _this_  he believed with a fierce conviction—the little moments he managed to save, every morning that he could, every timeline he lived and lost, were not.

Kaworu loved Shinji the most before the sun rose.

It was the only thing he could keep before another day began.


End file.
